


Hold Me Until Christmas Comes ... And Then Forever After

by HamishHolmes



Series: 2014 Christmas A - Zs [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2703047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamishHolmes/pseuds/HamishHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Christmas A - Z based on Clint and Natasha's relationship. Each chapter will be based on a word prompt and be set in a different AU. It'll update daily until the 25th when I shall, as your gracious ruler, release TWO chapters. I know, don't thank me.</p><p>Other Relationships / characters will be added as they appear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ADULTS

Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff were adults. They bought groceries, paid electrical bills and had savings account. Yes, they were definitely adults. They were both over 18, both no longer virgins and both had gone through puberty. They were adults in all sense of the word.

On Christmas Eve, Natasha and Clint got into bed, Clint spread eagled on his back, Natasha curled up, back pressed against Clint’s side, so that no one could attack her without her knowing. Her booty shorts and camisole were an adults (although admittedly, a small adult’s). Clint’s boxers, on inside out, were adults and his snoring was definitely an adult’s.

But at 5 o’clock on Christmas morning, Natasha got out of bed, shaking Clint awake. They both put on slippers, feet revelling in the comfort and warmth. Then they pulled on hoodies, both of which belonged to Clint, and padded downstairs. They went through to the kitchen, Natasha just a pace behind Clint and looking over her shoulder occasionally because some habits are hard to break.

Clint grabbed a box from the cupboard and a carton from the fridge. Natasha hopped up on the counter and swung her legs, making idle talk with her fellow assassin. Then she grabbed a bottle from the fridge, two bowls and a couple of glasses before following Clint through to the living room. There they lit the gas fire and sat down, crossed-legged on the carpet.

Clint turned on the telly and poured them each a bowl of fruit loops and topped it up with milk. Tasha poured them both a glass of orange juice and then began to sing along to the theme tune blaring from the television.

“Mona the vaaampiiire,” they sang, smiling at each other.

They were found later when the others arrived, watching other cartoons with empty bowls and glasses.

Tony never let them live it down.


	2. BURNT

Natasha was sat in the common room in Avengers’ tower when Pepper found her, knees drawn up tight to her chest. Pepper sat down next to her, not saying anything for a few moments.

“Have you been here the whole time?” she asked after the silence grew too much to bear and it became evident that Natasha wasn’t going to say anything.

“Yes.”

“We were worried about you,” said Pepper, putting her arm around the other woman.

“There was no need to be.”

“Clint, especially, was worried, even though we all know you can take care of yourself.”

“He needn’t have bothered worrying,” said Natasha, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” asked Pepper, voice incredulous.

“Of course,” said Natasha, turning to look at her, “I’m okay.”

“I disagree, honey,” said Pepper, “you’re locking yourself away again and we can’t help you when you do that.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m fine.”

“Then why run away from Clint?”

“Excuse me?”

“You love Clint and he loves you and yet every time he tries to get closer to you, you push him away. Why is that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Natasha, looking away from Pepper’s face.

Pepper didn’t say anything else. Instead, she sat there, face impassive, watching New York out of the window.

“I – I push Clint away,” began Natasha, “because I know that if he gets too close either I hurt him or he hurts me.”

“That’s not true,” said Pepper, “you would be happy together.”

“I’m sure we would, but for how long?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve had feelings like this before. Love this strong, joy this bright when I see him.”

Natasha paused, unsure whether to go on or not.

“We were both Russian’s working for the same man, hiring out our skills. We were paid by the same man as private assassins, but I worked with guns whereas he preferred poisons. I thought that our love would last forever, that I would be able to keep it, to keep me warm when all my other fires had burnt out. But it turns out that I was just another badge on his Scout sash. He didn’t give a damn about me and when our mutual employer ordered him to kill me, I don’t think he even flinched.”

Natasha was crying now, silent tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping off her nose.

“There was another man when I worked for a while in France and I loved him too. But one night, I came home to our apartment and there was his head balanced in a stew pot without his body and the word ‘DON’T’ written in his blood above our fireplace.”

Pepper bit back a gasp, horrified by this new terror in her friend’s past.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” said Natasha, sitting up, “but now you know why I can’t get close to Clint. Sooner or later one of us will end up getting hurt.”

“I can see you’ve been burnt, but Clint loves you. I think you should know that.”


	3. CHOCOLATE

Natasha woke up on Christmas day with an unholy pain in her abdomen. She rolled into a kneeling position, noticing that Clint wasn’t in bed anymore. Her hands clutched her stomach and she stood up.

“Today?” she growled to herself as she moved through to the bathroom, “Christmas day, mother nature?”

She made it to the bathroom and took a couple of aspirin, gulping water down after them.

She showered and dressed, trying not to stand up straight, desperate to avoid the pain that lanced through her whenever she tried it.

“Hey, Tasha,” called Clint from below, “what time are the guys coming?”

“How should I know?!” yelled Natasha back, brushing her hair and wishing that the aspirin would take effect much quicker.

“Well, you’re more likely to know than I am,” called Clint and Tasha could hear his footsteps on the stairs.

“Well, then neither of us know,” said Natasha, “they’ll arrive when they arrive.”

Clint arrived into the room behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.

“You alright, darling?” said Clint, “you seem a bit tense.”

“Well,” said Tasha, “I’m only cooking for lots of people despite the fact that my culinary training is basically nil.”

“Well, it’ll all be okay,” said Clint.

“What do you know?” said Tasha, shrugging him off and jogging down the stairs, heading for the kitchen.

When she reached it, she opened the fridge and dragged out a pint of milk, chugging it back instantly, and finishing the whole pint. She chucked the bottle in the recycling and wiped her mouth. Clint hadn’t come back down the stairs, and she was glad, not wanting to snap at him again, knowing that he was upset already.

She felt around in the back of the cupboard for her stash of chocolate, but she came up with only an empty packet.

She wanted to scream, but kept a lid on it for Clint’s sake and her own sanity. Instead, she ran back upstairs, bursting into the bedroom, which no longer had Clint in it and pulled open her underwear drawer, searching with her fingers for the other chocolate that she was supposed to have.

Again, she came up empty and her cravings were getting worse.

“CLINT?!” she yelled, “do you have any chocolate in?”

“No, I think we’re dry,” said Clint, re-emerging from the bathroom.

“GODDAMMNIT!” she yelled, collapsing to the floor and feeling tears running down her face.

She couldn’t do this. She had no way of coping with this, she had no chocolate and she was desperate to tell everyone that Christmas was cancelled and that they would all have to stay at home because she couldn’t do it anymore.

Clint knelt beside her and put his arms around her, pulling her closer.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Three guesses,” she said, not pulling back from his chest.

“Ah,” said Clint, nodding.

“Okay,” said Natasha, getting up and wiping her eyes, “let’s do this.”

She soldiered through, working hard and cooking, carefully avoiding the white seats in the house.

When Tony and Pepper gave her a massive bar of chocolate, she tore it open on the spot and shoved a big piece into her mouth, smile across her face.


	4. DEVOTED

It was Christmas day and Natasha and Clint were planning a nice long lie in, something they never got any other day of the year. But this time, they weren’t going to leave bed until noon, although they weren’t necessarily going to be sleeping the whole time.

For that reason, when the phone rang at seven o’clock, there was no one awake to hear it. The ringtone that normally cut through sleep was playing from inside a kit bag at the end of their bed, rather than on the bedside table where it usually sat and the layers of clothing on top of it muffled the sound, ensuring that the two master assassins slept on.

The phone rang again at 8 o’clock when Natasha was surfacing and this time she heard it.

“Clint,” she said, shaking him into immediate wakefulness.

He rolled over and slung his arm around her waist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, voice still husky with sleep.

“I’m going where we’re both going,” said Natasha, “can’t you hear the phone?”

Clint sat up and listened, tilting his head as he did so.

“Fury?” he asked, unbelieving, “on our day of rest?”

“It’s not a Sunday,” said Natasha.

“We’re not religious,” said Clint.

“Very true,” said Natasha, fishing in the bag for the still ringing phone.

She finally found it, and hit the answer call button, pressing the phone to her ear.

“Widow.”

_I really hope that you have a good reason not for answering the phone earlier._

“Always a charmer,” said Natasha, “we were asleep.”

_Never stopped you answering before._

“Well, it’s our day off.”

Her tone left no doubt that there would be no more questions.

_Well, we need you._

“I need some sleep.”

_We need you more._

“I won’t be able to shoot straight.”

_You and Barton here. Half an hour._

The other end of the line went dead and Natasha threw the handset across the room.

“Fury wants us over there, half an hour.”

“Oh my God,” said Clint, rolling over and getting out of bed, “I can’t believe him.”

Natasha didn’t say anything more, merely began to get changed, pulling on her suit and fitting her guns into her holsters.

Clint did likewise, slipping his quiver over his shoulder.

“Why couldn’t he just let us sleep in?” muttered Clint.

“Because the world needs us,” said Natasha with a roll of her eyes, “or rather Fury needs us for some menial task.”

Clint nodded his agreement and they left their apartment, heading quickly for Avengers’ tower.

“If this isn’t world threatening, we’re going back to bed right?” said Clint as they arrived in the lobby.

“Absolutely.”

When they finally made it to the right room, they found all of the Avengers gathered there.

“Surprise!” yelled Tony, “it’s a Christmas party.”

When he had recovered and stopped the nose bleed, the party resumed and no one tried to stop the two assassins going back home.

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately, due to illness and deadlines, I have fallen behind (in the first three days!) but I plan to catch up at the weekend, if not before. Please bear with me.


End file.
